The most delicious part of a perfect kiss is not the pressing of lips together. It is not the claiming, lustful engulfing. It’s the moment of hesitation. When lips are millimeters apart, when time freezes, when your brain stops thinking and just reacts, just feels. Perhaps it is the hesitation before lips meet for a first, tentative kiss. Or maybe it’s a hesitation in the transition between small, explorative kisses and giving in to lust. It could be that the hesitation is due to uncertainty. Or fighting a losing battle over lust. With an established partner that hesitation could also be intentional and meant to merely be a maddening tease. Draw out the longed-for moment of contact. The hesitation is one of those times where so much more is said in the inaction than the action. And I keep coming back to it in my mind, and it is just as prominent in my memory

A post by AAG earlier in the week reminded me of my first blowjob – and man was it awkward. And actually – quite regrettable. I must confess though that I’m not sure which year of high school this occurred, junior or senior year. I know that his name was John and he lived in another school district; we caught each others eye in the Small Town Friday Night Activity of Going To The Mall. LAME! I know. But I thought he was hot. We had something resembling a lame date and then a month or so later I saw him again for my Christmas formal. He was allowed to drive me to and from the dance, I think. But oddly we didn’t get frisky until he brought me home. He dropped me off and politely made small talk with my father and then I walked him to his car. I originally thought that my

I think that my G-spot has been trying to pick up the slack from my clit. Meaning, despite having a clit o’steel, my G-spot is mightily responsive now that I know her exact address. She was an elusive bugger, akin to locating Platform 9 3/4. Thanks to my Pure Wand though we’re now very friendly neighbors. I’m sure I’ve mentioned that my clit o’steel leads to another sad occurrence: clitoral orgasm from oral sex is nigh on impossible. “Close but no cigar” is the usual outcome. Thankfully my hubby has no issues with letting a vibrator finish me off. Last night was no different in that regard but on the plus side he has become as well acquainted with my G-spot as Mr. Pure Wand has. The women whose orgasms aren’t falling like ripe apples will know what I mean when I say that he had me in such a frenzy that my body was

As we headed home from an afternoon of driving around and getting lost, we started driving past one of the many “adult” places on this stretch of highway. For some reason there’s a lot here, be it a store or a strip club. The stores all look shady to me, and I wouldn’t likely ever step foot in one, but there’s usually a car or more at nearly every one. There’s one strip club that’s a little more out in the open, with regards to what is surrounding it. It’s right next door to a gas station, I think. I honestly don’t recall because I never pay much attention to what’s surrounding it. Especially this day. It was a fairly hot day, not too bad, and late afternoon. I interrupted our conversation and whip my head around, eyes completely off the road in front of me, and stared at the girls washing cars outside the

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